The Libretto
by cbs3
Summary: “Sorry. Force of habit. I mean, I’m obsessed with the piano.” “Can’t you just be obsessed with me?” Troy asked.“Oh. I’m getting there,” Ryan sighed. Tryan
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Ryan, a piano student at Juilliard, arranges to live with famed pianist Amelie Bolton over the summer. He gets more than he bargained for when he meets her strange son, Troy. 

Setting: A small town in upstate New York

Troy set his haunches and pressed his cheek against the steel as he stared down the barrel of the gun. Beyond the line of the rifle, a deer was tripping down a steep rise, shaking the green brush leaves.

He inhaled. His hair fell across his eyes. He pulled the trigger.

X

Chad and Zeke were eating in the dilapidated diner. In the booth by the window. Troy came in, like he was being chased, and slid in next to Chad. He began eating Chad's fries, one after the other. Chad smacked his hand.

"Get your own, Jesus," Chad whined.

"I think I killed a deer," Troy burst out. The two boys looked up.

"What happened to your face?" Zeke asked. There was a red mark across Troy's cheek.

"The rifle kicked it," Troy murmured.

"You loser; what'd you do?" Chad demanded furtively, looking around the deserted diner. Kelsi was reading a magazine behind the bar. The lights of the pin ball machine lit and went out in circles.

"I ran away; I didn't mean to kill it," Troy protested. "Do you think they'll be able to trace it to me?"

Zeke took a short breath. "Get rid of the gun-"

"And burn you shoes-" added Chad.

"And start praying."

Troy jumped as the door opened. A boy walked in with long, lithe legs and brown doe eyes. The boy walked toward the counter. His head turned and his eyes locked with Troy's. His face held no expression, but his eyes burned. He walked up to the counter and told Kelsi,

"I'm looking for Troy Bolton."

"Oh my God," Troy gasped, ducking down in his seat.

"What? Who is that?" Chad hissed.

"I have no idea," Troy hissed back.

"Then why are you hiding?" Chad pressed.

"It might be the police," Zeke answered.

"He's right over there," Kelsi sighed mechanically. And the stranger turned and walked toward them.

Troy looked out the window and reached for one of Chad's fries. Chad smacked his hand away. The boy stopped at the edge of the table.

"Which one of you is Troy Bolton?" he asked, smiling politely.

"Who?" Zeke replied.

"I am," Chad lied. The boy looked at Troy.

"He really is," Troy confirmed.

The boy looked at Chad. "I'm trying to find your mother's place."

"Why?" Troy demanded.

"I'm staying with her, for the summer," he told Chad.

"Oh. You must be Ryan," Troy said. "_I'm_ Troy. I thought you were someone else."

"I'm not."

"Yeah. Got it. Thanks," Troy said. "I'll write down directions."

"Why are you staying with Troy's mom?" Chad asked as Troy scribbled directions on a napkin.

"She's teaching me piano," Ryan replied. "I'm studying at Juilliard, where she used to go."

Troy handed him the napkin.

"Thanks," he smiled and started toward the door.

"Wait. Who's taking you up there?" Troy asked.

Ryan shrugged. "Walking."

"It's, like, twenty miles. Up hill." Troy informed him.

Ryan paused.

Troy sighed. "I can take you."

X

"Nice Shoes," Ryan said.

"Thanks," Troy grumbled. They were driving up the wooded road in Troy's truck. Ryan's rucksack was shifting around in the back.

"So, do you live with your mom?" Ryan asked.

"No, I live with my dad. On the other side of town."

"Oh. What's she like?"

Troy snorted. "She's good at piano."

"Yeah."

Troy shifted the gear as the hill steepened.

"It's really pretty out here," Ryan commented.

"I guess."

"You're mom must find it really inspiring."

Troy didn't say anything.

"Do you go to college?" Ryan asked.

"No. I work for my dad."

"Oh. Doing what?"

"He owns a business."

"What kind of business?"

"A beauty parlor," Troy growled, narrowing his eyes at Ryan.

"Oh."

"He's gay."

"Oh." Ryan played his fingers along the dashboard.

"Could you not to do that?"

"Oh. _Sorry_," Ryan exclaimed, jumping and guiltily folding his arms. He gazed out the window. "I get, like, really weird about the piano. My mom says I feel through my ears. Is your mom like that?"

"Do I have to _spell it out_ for you?" Troy demanded. "I don't like to talk about her."

"Oh. Sorry. I always say the wrong thing," he stammered. "You seem really jumpy. Oh. _Sorry_."

Troy slowed the car as they hit a sharp curve at the top of the hill. As they turned the corner, the hillside banked out below, revealing the mouth of the lush valley.

"Wow," Ryan murmured. "Did you grow up here?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

Troy shifted the gear as they turned off the paved road and up a graveled drive. Branches scrapped the windows.

"Oh my God," Ryan exclaimed, gazing rapturously through the trees. "Are there wild animals out here?"

"Yes."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Some of them."

"Does your mom live alone?" Ryan asked.

"No. She has a live-in maid, and there are doctors coming in and out all the time."

"Is your mom sick?"

"_She_ thinks she is."

The trees opened up as they passed by a lake. The figure of the wooden house was etched above, behind bars of trees. The drove past the lake and curved up to the paved driveway. Troy pulled up beside an old Toyota.

"Well," Troy prompted.

"You don't want to come in?" Ryan asked nervously.

Troy shook his head. "She doesn't want to see me," he assured Ryan.

"Okay. Thanks for the ride," Ryan said. Troy nodded. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe."

Ryan exited the car. He pulled his rucksack from the bed. He approached the door as Troy backed his truck down the drive.

X

A warm-looking woman opened the front door. "You must be Ryan. I'm Tamicka, Mrs. Bolton's maid. Did you find your way alright?" she asked, peering out at the truck rumbling behind the trees.

"Yeah," Ryan replied. The front room was white. There was a picture of Troy on the mantelpiece. And an antique French piano in front of the window.

"Mrs. Bolton is with a Doctor right now. I'll show you where you'll be staying," she said, leading him up the rickety staircase.

"Does she play that piano?"

Tamicka turned and looked at him, with her hand squared against her hip. "I don't know why she agreed to have you come all the way out here."

X

Ryan's new bedroom was freshly cleaned. It has lace curtains and photos of Troy fishing and playing piano. The book case had a few random titles _Amadeus Mozart_, _The Oxford Book of Opera, Music, the Brain and Ecstasy_. Ryan flipped through them on the blue bedspread, trying to decipher the annotations in the margins.

X

They had dinner at five o'clock. Mrs. Bolton was thin and pale. Her eyes were like glass. She sat at the head of the table and ate silently.

"It was so nice of you to have me," Ryan said. "I can't wait to hear your recent compositions."

"That's nice, dear," she murmured softly.

"Um...do you mind if I try out the Grand in the living room. I've never seen such a beautiful piano."

"That piano is broken," she informed him.

"Oh. What's wrong with it?"

"It's broken," she repeated.

"Oh." He shifted the food on his plate with is fork. "Are there any other pianos?"

"In the shed, outside," she answered. "_Play quietly_."

X

"How did that kid end up staying with your mom?" Chad asked. He, Zeke and Troy were at the Bar drinking beers and throwing darts.

Troy took aimed, arched back, and nailed the bull's eye. "He started e-mailing her from Juilliard or something. Tamicka told my father about it." He sat down and took a deep drink from his glass mug. "I don't know what the heck he's going to do up there. He won't last a week."

"Come on," Zeke argued. "You're mom's not that crazy."

"She's pretty freaking crazy," Troy disagreed.

"Have you heard anything? About this morning?" Chad asked.

"No," Troy shivered. "Let's not talk about it. _Ever again_."

"Hey, Troy, isn't that him?" Zeke asked, pointing his bottle at the door.

"_Who?" _Troy jumped. Ryan was walking into the bar. He saw Troy and approached him.

"Hey," Ryan said. "Thanks for giving me a ride earlier." He looked nervous.

"Sure," Troy nodded. "How did you get back down here?"

"The motorbike in the shed. I guess it used to be yours?"

"Yeah. Be careful going back up the hill; it stalls."

"Okay," Ryan said timidly. "Troy? Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends what it is."

"Your mother, does she even play piano anymore?"

"Um...I don't really know, Ryan. I haven't seen her in a while." Troy tried to disentangle himself from the conversation by listening in on Chad and Zeke, but Ryan pressed on.

"I think I'm sleeping in your room."

"It's not my room anymore," Troy said.

"I mean your _old _room," Ryan amended. He looked spooked and disappointed. "I really wanted to work with your mother. Her old symphonies are...they're just _amazing_," he said, empathetically. "I mean, they _changed my life_-"

"I'm really not interested," Troy interrupted. Ryan looked downcast. Troy sighed. "Listen. Why don't you toss the scooter in my truck, we'll go pick up your stuff and I'll take you to the train station," he offered.

Ryan's eyes widened and he shook his head. "No. This is really important to me," he insisted.

"Then deal with it," Troy shrugged. Ryan nodded obediently. He remained standing quietly beside Troy. "Why don't you get a drink or something?"

"I'm underage," Ryan murmured. Troy smiled and shook his head.

"You really _are_ hopeless."


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, the four boys were crowded into a booth. Ryan was quietly hacking out a piece in his head, slightly inebriated.

"So you live in the city, right?" Chad asked Ryan.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah."

"Do you like it?"

"It's okay, yeah. It can be kind of hard to think sometimes."

"Why would you want to think?" Zeke asked.

"Um. I'm really obsessed with the piano, I guess. I mean, it's all I ever really think about," he answer, rubbing his fingers against the glass.

Zeke cracked up. "That's all you think about? You really are some kind of nerd, aren't you?"

"I guess so," Ryan answered. "I just do what I love, why not?"

"Have you ever..." Chad tried to control his laughter. "Have you ever tried to kiss a piano?"

"Oh, Geez!" Troy exclaimed.

"No, really!" Chad protested. "You've heard all those band kid rumors!"

"Troy's just sensitive about it," Zeke added. "Because that's how he was conceived. His mother and a piano."

Troy shoved Zeke into the wall. "You-" he yelled. Chad jumped up to keep Troy from punching Zeke in the face.

Zeke was caught between crying out in fear and laughing hysterically."I'm _sorry..._it's just...I mean...his dad's _gay_."

"_Break it up!"_ The barman shouted, storming through the divide.

"You're such a jerk, Zeke," Chad spat.

The barman grabbed Troy. "You're out of here, Bolton. I mean it this time."

Troy took a deep breath and spun on his heel.

"I'm _sorry_!" Zeke shouted at Troy. Ryan glanced around and hurried up from the table after him.

X

"Troy!" Ryan shouted across the parking lot. It was dark and there was a chill in the air. Troy turned around and glared. "Do you think you could give me a ride? Please? I'm scared I'll get lost in the dark."

"Fine," Troy said. "Throw the bike in the back. _I'll _throw the bike in the back."

He unlocked the brakes and rolled the motorbike over. Then Ryan helped him hoist it into the truck bed.

"Your friends are jerks," Ryan told him, huffing and puffing from the effort.

X

The car rumbled back up the windy dirt road in the dark.

"I really appreciate you taking me out," Ryan gushed. "I know I'm sort of a weirdo-"

"You're not a weirdo," Troy said, watching the road.

"I don't really have any friends."

"Lucky you," Troy grunted.

"I wish I did. It's just people don't seem to like me. I think I must be really annoying."

"I think you're a little drunk," Troy interrupted.

"Yeah. Probably," Ryan sighed. "It's just, I think you're really nice."

Troy took a deep breath. "Listen. If you're trying to use me to get to my mom, it's not going to work."

Ryan looked startled. "I'm not, I mean, I wouldn't!" he pleaded.

"Good."

"I mean, I won't talk about your mom, _ever!_ If you don't want me to!" He looked terrified.

"Okay, okay. Fine. As long as we're clear."

"Totally," Ryan agreed. "Why don't you- I mean, never mind." Ryan forced his gaze out the window. "It's really pretty out here. Even at night," he commented as they rolled past the lake.

X

Troy was swinging back and forth on chair in his father's salon, forty minutes from where they lived, in a busy mountain town. His father was sweeping the floor before they opened.

"Now, what again did you do to your face?" he asked.

"I don't really remember," Troy replied. "I was really drunk. I think I hit a pole."

His father stopped sweeping. "Uh-huh," he smiled. "And who hit you?"

"Zeke," Troy lied.

His father went back to sleeping. "You really have to be more careful, Troy. You're still on parole."

"I know."

"One more infraction and you serve mandatory jail time."

"I _know_ that, dad," Troy sighed.

"Sorry," he said, kissing the top of Troy's head. "It's a dad thing." He went back to sweeping.

"You know, that kid's up there with mom. The one from Juilliard," Troy said. His dad nodded curtly. "Don't you think we should say something?"

Mr. Bolton stopped sweeping. "Troy, what Amelie does is none of my business."

"I know, but-"

His father fumed. "Troy, _no_. Stay out of it."

"Okay," Troy sighed.

"I mean it, Troy. It's for you own good-"

"I said, _okay_, dad."

X

Ryan found the shed, way out beyond the lake at the edge of the property. He carefully opened the shaky wooden door. He walked in, carrying a shoulder bag filled with music. He fumbled for the light switch and it blinked on, illuminating the white and black rows of keys.

"_Wow_," Ryan breathed. There were uprights and key boards and baby grands set end to end across the floor, and more up the ladder in the loft. "It's like the place music goes to die," Ryan murmured and shivered involuntarily.

X

"I'm really sorry about what I said. You know I love your dad," Zeke apologized. "In a completely plutonic way, of course."

Chad elbowed him. "You're really better off shutting up."

The three boys were at their booth at the diner. Troy was gazing up at the mountains.

"What are you looking at?" Chad asked.

Troy started. "Has that kid come down _at all_?"

"Who, the _Penis_?" Zeke asked.

Chad snorted. "When did you get to be so funny?"

"Yeah, the _Pianist_," Troy agreed.

"I haven't seen him," Zeke shrugged.

"Hey!" Chad called. "Kelsi, have you seen that weird kid that was in here the other day?"

Kelsi looked up from her book. "Ryan?"

"Yeah! The Pianist!" Zeke jumped in.

She shook her head. "No. I haven't seen him at all."

"There you have it," Zeke said, sitting back down. "She hasn't seen the _penis_."

X

Ryan trudged through the woods in the dark, trying to reach the main house. He'd lost track of time, playing the pianos in the shed, and hadn't thought to bring a flashlight. He tripped over a root and fell against a tree. An owl hooted in the distance. He looked around fearfully and pushed himself back up, disentangling himself from the roots.

He finally caught sight of the reflection of the lake and hurried through the dark and up the drive. The front door was locked, so he traveled around to the side door and knocked quietly.

Tamicka opened the door. :Where on God's earth have you been? I was about to call the police!"

Ryan opened his mouth to explain, but grinned broadly. "I have _never_ played such amazing pianos!" he exclaimed, hurrying in. Tamicka rolled her eyes.

"You've been playing those old things _all day_?" she asked.

Ryan nodded ecstatically. "A lot of them are out of tune, though. I tried to tune them, but do you think we could get someone up here? There's this old _Bosendorfer_- oh my God!. I-"

"_Sit_." Tamicka instructed, motioning to the kitchen table. "_Eat_." She put food in the microwave while he talked her ear off. The microwave beeped and she set the food in front of here.

"You don't-understand how- _amazing_ this is- to me," he said, between mouthfuls.

"Don't forget to chew."

He swallowed. "It's like _heaven_. It really is."

Tamicka rolled her eyes. "You're a sweet kid," she murmured, ruffling his hair.

X

"Oh, _thank God_ you're here!" Ryan exclaimed when Troy entered the diner. Ryan was sitting on the counter with Kelsi.

"Where have you been all week?" Troy asked. "I thought you'd left."

Ryan shrugged. "Up at the house, playing all the pianos."

"What pianos?" Troy asked.

"The ones in the shed," Ryan replied. "I was just telling Kelsi about them."

"I was dying from excitement," Kelsi drawled sarcastically.

Ryan hopped off the counter. "I was hoping I'd run into you. I need to ask a favor."

"A _favor_?" Troy repeated.

"Yeah, listen, a lot of the pianos are out of tune. And I really need to get out to town and find someone who can tune them-"

"How many pianos do you need?" Troy asked, raising his eyebrows at Kelsi.

"Oh he needs _a lot_, trust me," she said.

Ryan looked at Troy expectantly. "Listen, Ryan, my mom used to have some professional drive up every weekend. I don't really know where he is; so I can't help you."

"I basically know how to do it. I just need the tools," Ryan pressed.

"I know a guy," Kelsi said. "Out in Town. He used to teach my brother guitar, before he went to prison."

"_Really!"_ Ryan exclaimed. "Oh, that'd be _perfect_! Thank you!" He almost hugged her.

"Ryan..." Troy began. "Does my mother know you're doing this?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "She's been sick all week. I didn't really want to bother her."

Ryan sighed. "Okay, well, I guess I can drive you when Kelsi gets off work."

"I'll call my brother and tell him he doesn't have to pick me up," Kelsi said.

X

"So, is this where your dad's beauty salon is?" Ryan asked. They were driving along the road, through the big town. Kelsi was squeezed between them in Troy's truck.

"Have you met Troy's dad?" she interrupted.

"_Shut up_," Troy protested.

"_What?"_ Kelsi asked. "I think he's great. He's a lot more manly then those stupid friends of yours."

"_Thanks_," Troy mumbled.

"So, what about you, Ryan?" Kelsi asked. "Where are you from?"

"Oh. I moved around a lot."

"Congratulations," Kelsi said. "You're as vague as Troy Bolton."

Ryan smiled at Troy over her head.

X

Troy was maneuvering the truck around a residential area according to Kelsi's directions.

"Take a left right here," she continued.

"A left?" Troy asked.

"_Right here_," Ryan agreed.

"Okay, now, right, _right!"_ Kelsi ordered. "Okay, now keep going straight until the road curves."

"I think I've been here before," Troy commented, suddenly alert.

"Okay now, right again, _Troy! I said, Right!_ What are you doing?"

Troy had slammed the brakes and was in the process of hastily turning his truck around.

"Troy, what are you _doing?_"

"Shut up, Kelsi!" Troy shouted, angrily. She and Ryan grabbed onto any available handle as the truck roared around and back the way they came.

"Troy, _seriously!_" Kelsi protested.

"Just _shut up!_" Troy yelled, slamming the car into gear.

X

"So, are you going to tell us why you nearly gave us all heart attacks back there?" Kelsi asked as they pulled up at Kelsi's trailer.

Troy shook his head.

Kelsi rolled her eyes. "Sorry about your pianos, Ryan."

"It's okay," Ryan said, glancing worriedly at Troy.

"See you guys, later," she drawled, climbing over Ryan.

"Yeah, thanks for showing us, anyway," Ryan said.

Troy stayed silent. He started the engine back up and the drove off.

"I can help you tune them," Troy mumbled.

"_What?_" Ryan asked. It was the first thing Troy had said since their hasty exit.

"I said, _I can help you tune them_," Troy repeated.

"Oh. I appreciate it, but it's really difficult and-"

"I know how to do it."

"Oh."

_"Ryan,_ my mom's a famous pianist. I really _know how to do it_."

"_Really_? That would be so _amazing_!" Ryan gushed. "I can't believe it! Oh. But we don't have any tools."

"I have some," Troy sighed. "I can bring them up, tomorrow okay?"

"Oh, _yes!_ I mean, yes," Ryan agreed.

"I have to help my dad with the receipts in the morning, so...twelve o'clock okay?"

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, perfect."

"And Ryan," Troy added, looking over at him. "Don't tell anyone about it. I mean it. Not Tamicka. Not _anyone_." Ryan nodded slowly. "Promise?"

"Yeah. I promise."

X

A/N: I would really appreciate comments, even stupid ones, because on a superficial level, it would make me look better. Ha. x


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to the person who told me about the names. I don't have word, so I have to rewrite everything on txt, & I start to get delirious. My ex's name slipped in there, woops! Sorry, I think I fixed it. Let me know if it happens again x

X

Ryan walked into the shed to find Troy sitting on the bench of a white Steinway upright. He slid off quickly and approached Ryan. His red toolbox was in the corner, next to Ryan's music.

"I can't believe these things are all out here," Troy commented, looking up at the loft.

"I know. It's sort of _amazing_," Ryan said.

"Yeah," Troy raised his eyebrows. "_Amazing_"He picked up his toolbox. "So, which one do you want to do first?"

"The Bosendorfer," Ryan answered immediately. Troy took a hard breath and sighed, looked at the enormous piano. "It must have cost a fortune."

"It was a gift," Troy mumbled. "Almost all of them were."

Troy put his tool box down beside the piano and snapped it open. He sat down on the bench and played the first key. "_Good acoustics_," he mumbled to himself. "You can mess around on the other ones while I'm doing this I you want to. As long as you stop when I tell you to."

"No, that's okay," Ryan said, folding down against the wall with blank sheets of music. "I'll just watch you."

X

Ryan completely lost track of time, and thinking, and breathing.

"There." Troy finished, playing the deepest, final key. "That's good, right?" he asked.

"Oh." Ryan started, dropping music sheets as he stood up. "Don't you want to try it out?" Ryan asked, as Troy placed his tools back in the box.

"No," Troy shook his head. "You can do it." He snapped the box shut. "I can come back and do the other ones in a day or two. I'll leave this here," he said, placing it in the corner, beside Ryan's rucksack. "You'll be here, right?"

"Yeah," Ryan nodded. "Wait." Troy stopped. "Don't you want to make sure it sounds alright? I could play something."

"Not really, Ryan -I'll see you later."

"Okay."

"And don't tell anyone."

"_Promise_," Ryan agreed as Troy hurried out.

X

"Ryan," Tamicka called as Ryan headed for the door early one morning. "Mrs. Bolton would like to see you, before you go out today."

"Oh. Okay," Ryan agreed.

X

Mrs. Bolton's bedroom was white. There was an enormous white bed, with lacy curtains around the edges and a window leading out to the balcony. Mrs. Bolton was in a nightdress under the covers. There was a wet rag in a bowl on the counter.

Mrs. Bolton looked at Ryan with her glassy eyes. "Are you having a nice time?" she murmured.

"Oh, yes," Ryan said. "The pianos in the shed are amazing-"

She shifted in her bed. "Let's talk about something else," she said abruptly. "What other things do you like to do? Do you like swimming? Or fishing?"

"Um...I guess I like swimming."

She sat back in her bed. "You should go swimming in the lake outside. It's good to do other things; don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan agreed.

She looked out the window. "You can go now," she breathed.

Ryan nodded. "I hope you feel better," he said. She continued staring out the window.

X

"Where have you been?" Troy asked, as Ryan entered the shed. He was tooling around with an old upright. "I had to raise the pitch on this one. Look what I found," he held up a coin. "It's from _1985_!" he joked, placing it on the bench. "Why are you all wet?"

"I went swimming," Ryan replied.

Troy made a face. "Why did you go swimming?"

"I thought that your- _someone_, was trying to send me secret messages."

"_Okay_," Troy said, turning back to the piano.

Ryan sat down on a bench and played a random key. "_Troy?_"

"Yeah?" he replied, bent over his tuning wrench.

Ryan played another key. "How do you know how to do this?"

"I told you, my mom plays," Troy shrugged.

"_I _play. Pretty well, actually. And I don't really know how to do this." Ryan hit another key. "It takes_ years_ for professionals to learn how to do this-"

"I'm not that good-"

Ryan played a scale. "Sounds pretty good to me."

"I'm a fast learner."

"Why are you so evasive?"

"Why are _you _so evasive?" Troy demanded, spinning around to face Ryan. "_We move around a lot_. I don't know anything about you! And how the heck did you get my mother to agree to have you up here? She hasn't talked to anyone for _years_, and all of the sudden, out of the blue, she's got some prodigy from Juilliard snooping for secret messages!_ I'm_ trying to do you a favor, but if you going to get all nosy about it, you can go screw yourself." Ryan watched in shock as Troy stormed out.

X

"Playing with the penis again?" Zeke asked as Troy sat beside them in the bar later that night.

"I was at my dad's," Troy lied.

"We called him," Chad said. "He said he didn't know where you were."

"We told him you were probably with the piano boy," Zeke said. "He sounded kind of pissed."

"I thought he'd be proud of you," Chad mused.

"Seriously, Chad. Not today." Troy growled. "I'm not kidding around."

"We just think it's sort of weird, right Zeke?" Chad asked.

"He is kind of a nerd, Troy," Zeke said.

"Yeah, and we miss you," Chad sighed, sloppily leaning his head on Troy's shoulder.

Troy pushed him off. "_Shut up_," he moaned. He took a gulp of his beer. "I just had to help him fix something. I'm done now."

"_Kinky_," Zeke leered.

X

"Troy, hold up a second," Troy's father said as he tried to sneak past the living room later that evening.

Troy paused, guiltily. "What dad?"

"Where have you been?" he asked. He turned the volume on the TV down to a dull buzz.

"I was at the bar with Chad and Zeke. I swear, you can ask them!" he blustered.

"Did you go to your mother's today?" he asked evenly.

"No! I swear, dad, I haven't been there at all!" he defended. "I was up on the mountain, but I didn't go to the house. I swear on my life. I wasn't even _near_ it."

"Were you with that boy from Juilliard?"

"...yeah. It's just, he doesn't have any friends, and...he's a really nice kid."

"I'm not sure how I feel about this Troy."

Troy took a deep breath. "I won't be going up there anymore, anyway. I was helping him fix the shed-"

"The shed?" his dad interrupted.

"Yeah, the door was broken. So I helped him fix it. And now it's fixed. So I won't be up there. At all. Anymore."

"You know, I'm just looking out for you. I want to protect you."

"Yeah, I know," Troy nodded.

"You can breathe now," his father joked, raising his eyebrows. "Good night, Troy."

"Good night, dad."

X

Ryan was slowly searching the living room. Tamicka was upstairs, with one of the doctors. Ryan opened a wooden box, and jumped when the first notes of Mozart's #25 hit the air. He shivered.

"I'm not being nosy," he murmured, looking at a photo of baby Troy strangling a teddy bear. He ran his fingers across the antique books. Most of them were German music texts, score compilations or texts by Juilliard professors. They all were smeared with annotations, sometimes in German, sometimes in Italian.

Ryan was flipping randomly through a text by Dubal, occasionally reading the notes. He turned to a page in the middle and scanned a hasty note in the margin. He flinched and nearly dropped the book. He quickly shut the book and stuffed it back in the bookcase, racing out of the room.

He nearly ran Tamicka over on his way out the door.

"Where are you rushing off to? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"_Nothing_- nowhere," Ryan stammered.

She took him firmly by the shoulders. "Calm yourself down. Now, where is the fire?"

Ryan got a hold on himself. "It was...inspiration?"

"_Inspiration?_" Tamicka repeated.

"Yeah," Ryan lied. "I was working out this harmony and-"

"Alright, alright," Tamicka interrupted. She released her hold on him. "Go on. And Ryan?" Ryan stopped at the door. "I don't want to find you looking for inspiration anymore in this house. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Ryan nodded before bowing out.

X

"Troy?" Ryan asked. He had intercepted Troy on his way out of the bar on Saturday night.

"What do you want?" Troy demanded, charging on toward his car.

Ryan rushed behind him. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. About what I said. I was being nosy." He took a deep breath and looked expectantly at Troy.

"I accept your apology," Troy said, unlocking his truck. He opened the door and climbed in. Ryan kept waiting. "I can't keep helping you. I'm sorry. I have a lot of stuff to do."

"That's okay," Ryan breathed.

"I don't have time to be a slave to some nosy student."

Ryan nodded. "I completely understand."

"Okay. Right. Well, I'll see you later." Troy started his engine.

"Um, Troy, before you go, could you maybe give me a ride? Last time, I swear."

Troy sighed. "Where's the bike?"

X

Troy was slowing to make the tight curve, before the dirt road, when Ryan spoke up.

"Do you think we can still be friends?" he asked, anxiously. "You don't have to help me with the pianos. It's just, it's sort of scary sometimes, being up here alone. _Not that I want you to come up here_. But, I mean, maybe we could hang out sometimes, when you're not busy?"

Troy pulled out onto the dirt road. The lake appeared in the distance. Troy slowed the truck to a stop. Ryan stared at troy with his wide, brown eyes. Troy looked away and took a deep breath.

Troy looked back at Ryan. Then he made a sound and kissed Ryan on the mouth.

Troy jerked back and wiped his mouth. "Oh my God, _get out!_" he exclaimed, revving the engine.

"Troy?" Ryan said, fearfully.

"_Get out_. I'll come back tomorrow and tune your pianos, _okay?_ I'll do whatever you want, just get out of the car. Please!" Troy begged.

"Okay," Ryan agreed, shakily exiting the car. The engine stalled loudly before Troy finally through I into reverse and raced back into the trees, with the motorbike crashing along in the back.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm still working on this one; where did you put the coin?" Troy rambled quickly as Ryan entered the shed to find him cracking open the Steinway. 

"Um, I don't know," Ryan said, folding down and shuffling through his music. "You saving up for something?"

"No. I just thought maybe you took it."

"Why would I take it?"

"Well, it disappeared," Troy said.

"Maybe a ghost took it."

"Don't say that," Troy shivered. "When I was a little kid. I used to think the house was haunted." Troy quickly clammed up and returned to the piano.

"Yeah, it's pretty scary," Ryan coaxed. "I always think I see things in the lake."

Troy paused. "What kinds of things?"

"I don't know, fish?" Ryan suggested. "Nope, no coin." Ryan re-stacked his sheets.

"What?"

"You were looking for a coin?" Ryan reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Forget about it."

"You seem sort of out of it-"

"I kissed you."

"I know."

They stared at each other. Then Troy turned away and got back to tuning the piano, and Ryan picked up a pen and put a stack of music sheets on his lap.

X

"You don't have to leave," Ryan protested, as Troy stood up to go.

"Ryan, I-"

"I don't have to play the piano. We could do something else."

Troy smiled. "What else?"

"Lots of things," Ryan said. "We could go fishing!"

"What do you know about fishing?" Troy asked.

"You could teach me."

Troy shook his head. "Where, in the lake by the _house_? I don't even like fishing, anyway."

"Well, what do you like to do? We can do whatever you want."

"Sorry," Troy shrugged. "I promised my dad I'd help him with some of the bills for the salon. He sucks at that stuff."

"I could go with you," Ryan volunteered.

"You'd want to go all the way out there to watch me crunch numbers for an hour?"

"Oh, yes," Ryan nodded.

"Well, if you want to go _that_ bad-"

"Oh, awesome!"

"It'll be _amazing_," Troy joked.

X

"So, you go to Juilliard?" Mr. Bolton asked Ryan. Troy was bent over the desk in the back office, making faces at the calculator, while Ryan sat in the corner, watching.

"_Hmm?_ Oh. Yeah." Ryan nodded. "First year. I had a pretty hard time convincing them to let me come out here. But they love Amelie over there, so-" Troy glared at him.

"Yes, they certainly do," Mr. Bolton agreed.

"They'll be pretty disappointed to hear she doesn't play anymore-" Troy glared again and Ryan looked away from him, to Mr. Bolton.

"Yeah. So, do you want to be a professional musician?" he asked.

"I haven't decided," Ryan said. "I really wish Troy would hear me play."

"Will you _shut up_?" Troy burst out.

"_Troy!_" His father scolded.

"Tell him to stop talking about mom," Troy ordered.

"_Sorry_," Ryan said. "I thought I wasn't supposed to talk about her to _you_. I had no idea I wasn't supposed to mention her _at all_."

"I'm _right here_," Troy sneered. "You're getting pretty freaking sassy, you know that?"

Troy's father looked confusedly from one to the other.

Troy huffed and got back to his calculator. And Ryan got back to watching him.

X

"So, he seems like a really nice kid," Troy's dad said, at home later that night. Troy folded his arms and leaned back against the wall.

"Yeah, he's really nice," Troy agreed.

"You spend a lot of time with him?" his father asked, flipping through the mail.

Troy shrugged. "I guess. He's really nice."

"That must be fun."

"It is."

"Well," Mr. Bolton said. "I'm glad you've met such a nice...friend."

"Uh-huh," Troy mused absently.

X

"Take a look at this," Ryan ordered, shoving a page of sheet music under Troy's nose. "What do you think?"

"Um...you have really messy handwriting?" Troy asked. They were hanging around the shed, taking a break from tuning.

"You can read music," Ryan stated. "I mean, can you?"

"No." Troy's fingers twitched.

"I caught you looking at some, the other day," Ryan accused.

"I like the squiggles," Troy argued.

"I can't be going around with a boy who doesn't tell me the truth," Ryan said.

"_Going around?_ I kissed you once."

"But you_ so_ want to kiss me again."

"No, I don't."

"Uh-huh. So I guess it's your _love _for pianos that keeps you coming back for more," Ryan said, sitting down next to Troy on a bench.

Troy shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment."

Ryan reached out and brushed a clump of Troys hair away from his eyes. "Does your dad cut your hair?" he asked gently.

"We talk about my parents a lot," Troy murmured, looking down at Ryan's lips.

"I'd rather talk about you," Ryan said, shifting his shoulders closer. "But you always..." He slammed his elbow on the keys and pressed his lips into Troy's, pushing him backward on the bench. Ryan's hand absently twirled along the keys and Troy slapped them off, deepening the kiss. He moaned softly and arched his back. "_Oh my God" _Ryan gasped, and suddenly pulled away. He looked at Troy, like a deer in headlights. "I want you so bad," he murmured. "It's scary."

Troy strained his neck and kissed the side of Ryan's mouth. Then he wrapped his arms around Ryan and held him tight against him. His hips jerked involuntarily and he whined slightly. Ryan hugged him back; his fingers felt numb.

"I like you a lot," Troy whispered.

"Me, too," Ryan agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Where the heck have you been?" Chad demanded. He and Zeke had spotted Troy at the gas station across from the diner and hurried over to catch him. 

"Yeah, we thought you were arrested or something," Zeke said.

Troy secured the gas nozzle, then responded. "No, I wasn't."

"Where have you been?" Chad asked, suspiciously.

Zeke narrowed his eyes. "You're with the penis, aren't you?"

Troy's cheeks flamed up. "It's seriously getting old, you guys."

"You are so in love with the penis!" Zeke accused.

"He is!" Chad agreed.

"I am not in love with Ryan-"

"Oh my God, he knows his name. It's love," Chad sighed.

"I can't believe you love him better!" Zeke shouted dramatically.

"Yeah, well, he's a lot cooler than you guys, anyway," Troy snapped.

"Oh my God," Chad gasped. "He's _cooler_!"

"Do you make beautiful music together?"

"Seriously. Shut up." They quieted down.

"Sorry," Zeke offered, looping his arm around Troy's shoulder. "We kid because we love."

"Yeah, sorry," Chad agreed, resting his arm on the other side.

"Oh, and FYI," Zeke added. "We always knew you were gay."

Chad nodded solemnly.

X

"Have you been having a nice time?" Mrs. Bolton breathed. They were sitting around the dinner table one evening. Ryan was preoccupied and playing with his food.

"Oh, yes," he told her. Tamicka smiled at him from across the table.

"I hope you haven't been too lonely," Mrs. Bolton continued.

"Oh. No," Ryan said. "Actually, I've been spending a lot of time with Troy."

Mrs. Bolton coughed into her napkin. "_Who?_" she asked faintly.

Tamicka was glaring at Ryan from across the table.

"Umm...Troy? Your son?"

Mrs. Bolton rounded on Tamicka, eyes suddenly aflame. "Tamicka, has Troy been out here?"

"No, ma'am, I'm sure Ryan is just confused," Tamicka said, staring down Ryan.

Ryan hunched down in his chair. "Yeah. Sorry. I must have got mixed up."

"You know I don't want him on this property," she ordered Tamicka.

"Yes, ma'am."

"If I find out you're lying to me-"

"No, ma'am."

Ryan cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry."

Mrs. Bolton took a deep breath. "I want to go upstairs now, Tamicka."

"Yes, ma'am."

X

"What on earth are you thinking?" Tamicka demanded. She'd forced Ryan into the kitchen, after she'd returned from seeing to Mrs. Bolton.

"But you saw him! He dropped me off on that first day, and you didn't say anything."

"Well, I didn't know you'd been having tea parties," Tamicka huffed. "Has he been up in that shed with you?"

"Just a couple of times," Ryan lied. "Why isn't he allowed up here?"

"That's none of your business-"

"Oh, _come on_, it can't be that big a deal!" Ryan complained. "Everyone's so..._damn _cryptic around here, it could drive a person insane!"

"_It certainly could_," Tamicka said cryptically.

Ryan sighed loudly. "You people need therapy," he muttered.

Tamicka smiled. "Now, that sounds like my Troy."

Ryan rolled his eyes.

X

Ryan jumped in his seat when Troy entered. He'd been in the middle of feeling out the concerto he was working on. Usually he hated to be interrupted, but when he saw Troy, he stood up and kissed him on the lips. Troy kissed him back, and it was several minutes before they came up for air.

"I was hoping you'd come today," Ryan exclaimed, shifting his hips so that he could feel Troy against his leg.

"It's only, like, ten o'clock."

"I'm very impatient." Ryan kissed him again. Then rubbed his nose into Troy's neck. "You smell like shampoo," he commented.

"My dad cut my hair."

"It looks _beautiful_," Ryan gushed.

"Gee, thanks." Troy glanced around the shed. "We're almost finished," he noted.

"I've been playing them really hard, so you'll have to fix them again."

"Have you?" Troy asked wryly. Troy sighed and walked over to a bench. "I don't really feel like tuning them today," he said, absently tapping a key.

"What do you want to do?" Ryan asked, folding down at Troy's knee.

"I don't know..." Troy said, hitting another key. "Stupid romantic things."

"I would never have taken you for a romantic-"

"I'm very romantic!" Troy defended, affronted. "When I was a kid I used to..."

"Used to what?"

Troy sighed again. "I used to write poems for my mother. And Tamicka. And the gardener, the milkman, the guy who tuned the pianos-"

"No wonder you didn't want to look him up," Ryan joked.

"I'm trying to prove a point, here."

"I'm sorry. How could I ever have doubted you."

"Thank you," Troy said, hitting three keys in a sequence.

"You know what I think is romantic?" Ryan questioned.

"Pianos?" Troy asked, fearfully.

"Besides that," Ryan responded, kissing Troy's knee.

"What?"

"Swimming."

"Ryan, I can't go-"

"I know _that_. But there's another lake."

"Where?" Troy demanded. "I lived here for thirteen years, I defy you to find me a lake I haven't been to-"

X

"It's a lake," Troy admitted.

"Told you," Ryan simpered.

They were standing before a small, clear lake about a mile's hike around the mountain.

"I can't believe it," Troy murmured. He rounded on Ryan. "How the heck did you find it?"

Ryan shrugged. "It's a magical lake. Maybe one day, it just sort of appeared."

"You're freaking me out."

"Come on! Take off your clothes!" Ryan ordered, plopping down and untying his shoes.

"I'm not going in there," Troy complained. "The water's all..._magical_."

"A little magic is good for you," Ryan trilled, whipping off his shirt.

"You're really pale," Troy commented.

"Oh, thanks," Ryan said sarcastically. "Come on, I thought you said you _loved_ romance or some crap. Or was that just a line?"

"It'll be freezing," Troy hemmed, playing with a branch.

"We hiked all the way out here," Ryan said, pausing in his stripping. He leaned forward, jeans undone, and looked up at Troy.

"I didn't think we'd _actually_ find a lake," Troy replied.

Ryan tilted his head. "Are you scared?"

Troy looked away. "We can just...look at it."

"Well, _I'm _going in-" Ryan shrugged, making a move for his waistband.

"No, don't!" Troy exclaimed. Ryan froze.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm afraid of water," Troy admitted.

"But- I saw pictures of you fishing?" Ryan said.

Troy shook his head rapidly. "I _really_ don't like water." Troy stood awkwardly, holding onto the branch. "Can we just go?"

"But-" he looked at Troy and gave in. "Yeah, I guess so. Let me put on my clothes." Troy patiently watched him tie his shoes and then they hiked back around the mountain.

X

"So..." Ryan began. He was standing beside Troy's truck window as Troy fastened his seatbelt to head back down the mountain.

"Sorry. I'm not really _that_ afraid of water," Troy defended.

"Oh, yeah, you seemed to handle yourself really well," Ryan agreed. Troy smiled, breaking the tension. "I'm really sorry I missed out on all your stupid romantic things."

"Maybe I'm not that romantic, after all," Troy relented.

"Sure you are," Ryan said, leaning up to kiss him.

"'Bye," Troy smiled, starting up the engine and pulling away.

"I'll be expecting my poem!" Ryan shouted after him.


	6. Chapter 6

Normally I might possiby listen to someone's comments about how to write ke-rect-ly blah, blah, blah, but I already finished writing this entire story, so I'm just going to release it by chapters. Thank you for your concern x

Also, there will never been any more than kissing.

x

Ryan was trudging up the path toward the house when he ran into Tamicka. She glared at him with her hands on her hips.

"I thought you were out here to study music," she said.

"I am," Ryan defended.

"I don't see what adventures in the woods have to do with the piano."

"Well. Actually, Beethoven used to go out in the woods all the time, and he didn't do too bad for himself."

"Just where did you pick up that attitude. Strike that, I know where you picked up that attitude. And neither the attitude, nor the boy you picked it up from belong on this property, understand?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry," Ryan apologized.

"Don't forget that you're a guest here."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And I'm just doing my job."

"Yes ma'am."

Tamicka sighed. "Smiling is still allowed."

Ryan nodded obediently.

X

"Were you out with that boy again today?" Troy's father asked. They were watching TV while eating dinner

"Yeah," Troy said.

"What do you do up there?" Mr. Bolton asked.

Troy shrugged. "...go on hikes."

"You go on hikes? My lazy son?"

"I'm not lazy!" Troy protested, taking his feet off the coffee table.

"You haven't been in the salon since you brought Ryan down. You know, part of you working for me is-"

"I'll come down tomorrow. For the whole freaking day, if you want!"

"I'm not saying you have to-" Mr. Bolton began.

"Oh good, because tomorrow isn't really good for me."

Mr. Bolton snorted. "Troy. It's not just that. Does Tamicka know you're up there."

Troy shrugged his shoulders. "I told Ryan not to tell her."

"Well, I can almost guarantee she knows-"

"So what?" Troy demanded. "I'm not doing anything-"

"Troy." He sighed in exasperation. "It's not good for you to be up there. And...I mean, are you sure you're not using this kid to get to your mom?"

"_What?_ No! How could you say that! I don't even want to see her, ever again."

"Well, you are hovering awfully close. And...I mean, Juilliard..."

"How do you know? Maybe I'm in love with him because I want to be gay like you!"

"Well, that's something else to consider," his father said, suddenly cracking up at Troy's set face. "Sorry, kid. You figure it out on your own."

"Thank you," Troy huffed. "Also, I didn't mean _love_."

X

"Do you think there's a chance someone could find us out here?" Ryan asked. Troy was tightening the strings on the last piano, pausing every few seconds to test it out.

"It still sounds off," Troy muttered to himself. "Like who?" he asked Ryan.

"An owl?"

"No," Troy answered. "I don't think an owl could find us out here."

"_Possibly_," Ryan said, absently tapping the keys on the white Steinway. "Maybe the coins in there."

"What?" Troy asked, confused.

"The disappearing coin. Maybe it fell under the keys or something," Ryan suggested.

"It doesn't sound like a coin," Troy muttered, furrowing his brow.

"What would happen if someone did?"

"Did _what?_" Troy demanded, starting to get frustrated.

Ryan brushed some keys. "Did find us?" He played two notes an octave apart. "What would happen if somebody found us?"

Troy froze. "Does _somebody_ know?"

"No. Not at all. I mean, I did sort of mention it once, but I brushed it off." Troy breathed a sigh of relief.

"-Wait, we're talking about my mom, right?" he asked. Ryan nodded. "Well, as long as you keep your big mouth shut, we won't have to worry about that."

"Yeah, but I'm not really good at keeping my mouth shut."

"I'll shut it for you," Troy suggested.

Ryan raised his eyebrow and played a high note. "But, really, I mean, she _could_ find out."

"I don't see how she could," Troy maintained, folding his arms

"It's a _possibility_," Ryan said.

Troy shook his head. "It's not a_ possibility_. So I don't even see why we're talking about this _non-possibility_ on a taboo person."

"You're going to have to say something eventually," Ryan sighed with exasperation.

Troy stopped what he was doing and stood up to leave.

"Oh, come on, _Troy!_ You can't keep doing this, every time!" Ryan protested.

Troy rounded on him. "How would you like it? There are some horrible things that I don't like to talk about. And you keep bringing them up _again, and again, and again_. There are some things that are just_ bad_, do you understand? They're just bad. And I don't like to talk about them! I just _don't!_ So, if you can't handle that- I mean, it's not that _hard_, is it?" Troy demanded.

"No," Ryan said, quietly.

Troy took a deep breath. "I can't keep coming out here, anyway. I'm supposed to be working, my dad's really mad at me, I haven't seen my friends in forever. This freaking piano's done, anyway!" he shouted, slamming it shut. "You're supposed to be studying the piano; so study your stupid piano!" Troy ordered, storming out of the shed.

X

"What are you so mad about?" Mr. Bolton asked, after Troy barreled into the salon at closing.

"I thought you wanted me to help or something," Troy growled as he nearly knocked over a box of shampoo. The two hairstylists still cleaning up looked warily at him.

Mr. Bolton took the box he was wrangling with out of his hands. "Why don't you go sit down in the office?"

"Fine," Troy snapped, marching off.

X

"So, what's up?" Mr. Bolton asked. He'd come into the office a half hour later.

Troy was clicking and un-clicking one of his dad's pens. "I killed a deer."

"You- _what?_" his father asked, confused.

"I shot a deer. Do you think I'll go to jail?" Troy asked nervously.

"No. I think you just get a fine. Troy, um, when did you shoot a deer?"

"The day- Ryan came," Troy confessed. "So you don't think I'll go to jail, even though I'm on parole?"

"Well, Jesus, Troy, where did you kill it?" Mr. Bolton asked. "It might be a misdemeanor, and then you're in trouble."

"But as long as no one knows about it-"

"What the hell are you doing, running around with a rifle anyway? You don't even know what you're doing! Troy, I- Troy, you're grounded, I mean it, this is serious."

"Okay," Troy nodded. "I'm really sorry."

"Jesus, do you really think it was dead?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was dead."

X

Ryan tapped three rising keys. He looked around the empty shed and sighed. He let his fingers sink into the piano, fall into the crazy dance against the keys. The shed reverberated with sound.

X

"Hey, have you see Troy at all?" Ryan asked Kelsi. There were a few unfamiliar faces at the diner.

"No," Kelsi smiled, looking up for his book. "Not since yesterday." She closed her book. "So, tell me, Ryan, are you and Troy, like, totally gay for each other?"

Ryan shrugged. "I kind of like him."

"That's so hot."

"Thanks," Ryan answered. "Um, can I get like a coffee or something?"

"We're out of Decaf," she said, placing an empty mug in front of him as he sat on a barstool

"Whatever," he shrugged. She filled the mug with coffee and leaned on the counter.

"So," she asked conspiratorially. "What's it like up there?"

"Up where?"

"Up on the mountain, with Amelie or whatever. My brother's friend used to go up there, but he died or went to prison. He said she was totally deranged."

"Um...I wouldn't say deranged," Ryan said, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee. "But, did something happen up there? I mean, I don't know, something weird, to make her like that?"

"No," Kelsi shook her head. "She's just crazy."

"But why isn't Troy allowed up there?"

"I told you, she's crazy. He left because he couldn't stand her, and it probably pissed her off."

"So nothing, I mean, _nothing_ happened."

"No, nothing," Kelsi laughed. "Trust me, we would know about it. This is a very small town. She's just some crazy musician-"

"But she doesn't even play anymore," Ryan interrupted.

"Ryan, some people are crazy. You can't explain them. That's why they're crazy."

"But, I mean, it's weird-"

"_Crazy_," Kelsi shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess," Ryan said, forcing down another sip of coffee. "How much for the coffee?"

"One twenty-five."

Ryan dug some coins out of his pocket and placed them on the counter. "Hey, Kelsi?" he asked as she rang him up.

"Yeah?"

"What about that guy, the one who tunes the pianos?"

She shrugged again. "He's just some guy who teaches music. He actually lives by that guy I was talking about."

"Who?"

"My brother's friend," she explained. "The one who used to take piano lessons from Troy."

"Wait- he took piano lessons from _Troy_?"

"Of course he did, you can't expect anyone to learn anything from Amelie, she's a complete nutcase."

"Troy taught the piano?" He said, jumping up excitedly.

"That's what I said- are you okay?"

"Oh. Yes." Ryan said, nodding his head vigorously. "Thanks for the- whatever that was!" he shouted, hurrying out the door.

X

"You're at my house. What are you doing at my house?" Troy demanded. He was at the door, wearing pajamas in the middle of the day. The TV was on in the living room.

"You..." Ryan began, before trailing off.

"What?" Troy asked, adjusting his clothes and trying to rub the toothpaste off his t-shirt.

Ryan changed tacks. "Where have you been?"

"I was grounded," Troy replied.

"For what?" Ryan asked.

Troy shrugged.

Ryan grunted in annoyance. "Was it for teaching piano?"

"I haven't been teaching piano," Troy replied quizzically.

"But you used to."

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well," Ryan said thoughtfully. "I thought you'd be more evasive about it."

"It's not illegal teach piano," Troy defended.

"But apparently it is to talk about it- why didn't you tell me?"

Troy shrugged. "I didn't really see the point," he said, wandering back into the house. "You can come in." He sat on the couch and flicked off the TV.

Ryan followed him in and sat down across from him. "Well, for one thing, I play piano."

"I don't teach anymore-"

"Why not?" Ryan interrupted.

"You know, Ryan, you really suck at not being nosy."

"I know. Okay. Fine. I'll stop." He took a deep breath and looked around the small house. "_But if I could just here you play_."

"_Ryan!_"

"Sorry. Force of habit. I mean, I'm obsessed with the piano."

"Can't you just be obsessed with me?" Troy asked.

"Oh. I'm getting there," Ryan sighed.

"So," Troy said, drumming his fingers on the sofa arm.

"I sorry for being so nosy. Again."

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it. I'm sorry for leaving. I was being stupid."

"Oh. Good."

"Yeah."

"You look really cute in pajamas," Ryan commented.

"Thank you."

"But you should probably take a shower-" Troy scoffed and kicked him in the stomach. Ryan jumped on him and clamped his arms above his head while he wriggled beneath him.

"You're- stronger than- you look," Troy said between breaths.

"I have really strong fingers-" They both froze, suddenly awkward, and Ryan climbed off him. "...so...have you ever done that?"

"What?" Troy said, abruptly.

"Um...had sex, like, the gay kind?"

"No- have you?"

"No," Ryan said quickly.

"Do you even know how?" Troy asked softly.

"No- do you?"

"No," Troy replied. "It seems really...weird."

"Oh. Yeah. But I bet it wouldn't be _that _bad-"

"Yeah. It must be okay. Otherwise people wouldn't do it."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "It probably feels good, I bet."

"Yeah. I bet it does."

"Um..." Ryan looked at Troy. "We don't have to do it today."

"Yeah. I mean we probably shouldn't; my dad could come home any minute."

"He would know how to do it."

Troy burst out laughing, and so did Ryan. Then Ryan crouched forward and kissed Troy. He kissed him again, on the chin, and then on the neck. Troy whined a little.

"Yeah, we don't have to do it today," he purred.


End file.
